


Nightmares

by kickassanakin



Series: justice will prevail, you say? [11]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Drinking, Gen, Smoking, marine AU, not ideal ways to cope with nightmares and trauma but they're doing their best, vinsmoke is his deadname you bastards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 13:30:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16388618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kickassanakin/pseuds/kickassanakin
Summary: He had nightmares, sometimes.





	Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY DOFFY!!!

He had nightmares, sometimes.

Fire burning, people screaming. A sharp pain in his side. His brother and his father, crying out for mercy. A throbbing in his head.

When his left eye erupted in agony, the dream scenery would change.

He was no longer in pain. There wasn’t any fire, but there was still screaming.

Rosi.

Clutched in their father’s arms, sobbing.

He stood before Rosi and his father, gun cocked. Ready to fire. The throbbing in his head had spread to his chest, his arms, his whole body. He thrummed with fury.

_"I’m sorry you had to have a father like me.”_

He was at Mary Geoise now.

Swinging around a pumpkin, a gourd all carved up to look like a human face. It was something regular, lesser humans did at certain times a year. Father had always found the idea quaint. But if he looked to closely at the pumpkin he was swinging around, it looked back at him through his father’s eyes. Its mouth opened and from it came his father’s voice.

_“I’m sorry I had to have a son like you."_

Doflamingo woke up in a cold sweat. His heart thumped painfully in his chest, the darkness pressed in on him from all angles, and he felt trapped.

He kicked his blanket off of him as quickly as he could and sat up. He pulled his legs to his chest, wrapped his arms around his legs, and tried to take some deep breaths.

The nightmares were nothing new. They were different every time, but the message was the same.

Doflamingo closed his eyes and inhaled. He listened to the quiet sounds of his room – primarily Rosi’s soft snoring.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up. He wouldn’t be going back to sleep for a while. He’d go to the kitchens and steal some booze.

The Navy HQ kitchens were top of the line, and there was always someone in there, whether they were cleaning up dinner or cooking up breakfast. They were very strict about who was let into the kitchen, especially in those early morning hours.

Doflamingo, a navy admiral, ignored the surprised cries of the few cooks he had interrupted. At this point, they knew better than to stop him. When Doflamingo first started doing this, he had tied up more than a few of the chefs for trying to get in his way. Nowadays they all tried to keep their distance.

Doflamingo, not one for conversation in this kind of mood, appreciated it. He made his way to the back, where they kept all the liquor, and swiped a bottle without even looking at the label. Whatever it was, it would be enough to get the job done. Hopefully.

Just in case, he grabbed an extra bottle.

He left, as silently as he came, and the cooks all slowly went back to what they were doing before.

On nights like these, he didn’t go back to his room. He wandered the halls, looking for a good place to sit down and drink. He’d stay there until near-dawn, then he’d slip back into his room and pretend to sleep for a few hours. It was his usual routine.

So color him surprised when he arrived at one of his favorite late-night haunting spots to find somebody else already there.

It was a small spot outside, near the gardens that the recruits were forced to take care of when they first arrived. At night, it gave a good view of the ocean and never had any visitors.

Doflamingo had really not expected to find a young man already sitting there, smoke curling lazily off of his cigarette.

“Sanji?” He said, before he could stop himself.

The young man turned to look at him, not nearly as surprised. “I knew you were coming,” he said simply, “I just didn’t want to move.” Observation haki, he assumed.

“That’s… fine.” Doflamingo shrugged, then sat down next to the younger marine. Then, because it was late, and he had already started drinking, and he didn’t know what else to do, he asked “What are you doing up this late?”

Sanji took a drag from his cigarette and sighed. “Bad dreams.” He peered over at Doflamingo. “You know how it is.”

Yeah, he did know how it was. He took another sip from the bottle. “Rough.” He knew all about Sanji. Who he was, where he came from. Who – or rather, _what_ – his family was. Sanji wanted nothing to do with them. Doflamingo could relate. “Want to talk about it?”

The young man laughed. “No. Do _you_ want to talk about it?”

Fair.

“I’m your commanding officer. Thought I’d offer.” He wasn’t the best with emotional things – that was more Rosi’s strong point – but he cared about his people, whether he was good at showing it or not. And Sanji was definitely one of his people. He was a lieutenant, and making his way up the ranks (whenever Zoro went up, Sanji wasn’t far behind), but Doflamingo considered the man his own regardless of where he was in the rankings. He would always be “Just Sanji,” a nervous kid waiting for judgement, to him.

Sanji huffed a laugh. “Thanks, but no thanks.” He took another drag and seemed to relax.

They sat there in silence for a little longer, Sanji puffing away at his cigarettes, Doflamingo downing his booze, and even though they didn’t talk, there was something nice about it. Knowing that they weren’t alone.

“My family was…” Doflamingo started, after what felt like hours had passed, “Well, a mixed bag. More bad than good.” The greater Donquixote family, at least.

Sanji didn’t say anything.

“When we left Mary Geoise, it was pretty clear that my mother, father, and Rosi were the good.” Doflamingo closed his eyes and sighed. “I was the bad.”

“You were a kid, weren’t you?” Sanji put his cigarette down.

Doflamingo laughed. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean much.” He opened his one good eye and looked pointedly at Sanji. It didn’t matter, because he had his sunglasses on, but he knew the young man could feel it. “I’m sure you know how monstrous kids can be.”  

Sanji looked back out to the sea. “I guess I was the opposite, then.” Sanji said quietly. “My mother and I were the good. My sister – she’s her own mixed bag, I guess.” He shrugged. “My brothers, and my father… they’re the bad.”

The bad didn’t always stay bad, he could say. But did he believe that?

Doflamingo looked down at his hands. Those hands, which were capable of taking life so easily. Saving lives, too, but at the moment, all he could think of was the solid weight of the gun in his hand. Of the way it kicked back when he fired the shot that killed his father.

Could a bad person like him really be good?

“I’d like to believe my brothers ended up like you.” Sanji put out his cigarette and put the rest of his pack away. “With my father the way he is, I doubt it. But it’s nice to think that they could have changed.” He placed his lighter in his pocket and stood up.

The sea was turning a little lighter, and off in the distance, the sky looked a little more pink than it had before. Dawn was approaching.

“I should head back to the dorms. Moss head always complains when he knows I’ve been out of bed this early.” Sanji stood up and dusted himself off. “Thanks for keeping me company, Doffy.”

Doflamingo nodded mutely. Sanji walked off.

For a few more minutes, Doflamingo sat there by himself and watched the sun rise over the ocean.

He didn’t know if he was good or not. If he would ever be allowed to truly be a good person. If he could ever sleep without a reminder of what he had done, of what he had almost become.

But in the meantime, there were people who saw him and believed he was good.

He may not see it, but they did.

After a while, he stood up and brushed the dirt off of his coat.

Maybe he could be a good person, maybe he couldn’t. He would keep trying.

He could just keep hoping that one day, Homing wouldn’t be ashamed to have a son like him.


End file.
